For Spite
by Angelas
Summary: Chris loses his keys and ends up asking the king of ice for a ride home after a long day at work. [WeskerxChris/M for a reason]


**So yeah. I've loved this pairing since ever and decided to finally do something for them. C:**

**Please note that it gets pretty explicit.. So if it bothers you, please save yourselves the agony and look back.**

**I disclaim, so hush you big fat Capcom~**

**oOo**

It started out simply enough.

Just another boring as shit day in the Alpha team STARS office.

You know, mountains of paperwork covering every inch of a desk, dull silence, the reek of printed ink, the constant clicking noise of Wesker typing away in his office like some robot put on automatic.

God, Chris hated that noise.

But what Chris hated even more was the frozen expression that Wesker always wore.

It made him antsy, restless, and though Chris would never admit it out loud to anyone, it made him awfully.. curious.

And so Chris would spend the majority of his slacking time just staring at the man, wondering.

Did he eat like everyone else?

Did he sleep?

If so, how?

Did he snore? Did he like cookies? Did he like anything at all? Did he have friends? Did he piss? Or maybe-

The clicking of the keyboard had suddenly stopped.

"Christopher Redfield," was the wry, British drawl that slithered into the silence of the room. "Stop staring at me. It's irritating."

Chris' back immediately straightened up, as if he had been suddenly electrocuted by something, the pen cap he'd been mindlessly chewing on falling somewhere onto the floor. Swiveling quickly in his seat, Chris faced his messy desk again, his back facing Wesker like it should always be thanks to the odd formation of the room.

"Thank you."

The typing commenced soon after.

Chris wormed in his seat, switching back and forth on his ass for a position that would feel more comfortable, but to no avail. He was bored, goddamnit. He wanted to go home to some nice loud music and maybe some videogames before collapsing into his soft, fluffy bed.

Biting his lip, Chris tried to read through the case file that he'd been working on since eight in the morning that day. He accomplished the first few words, even up to the second sentence, but then he found himself fiddling around with a paperclip he'd found in his pocket that had just looked way too fascinating to even think about passing up.

"Well, guys, I think I'm done for the night. Kathy's probably worried sick by now," Barry said out of nowhere as he stood from his seat, stretching. "Hopefully those case files pass through. Some of them actually looked pretty promising."

"Good," Wesker said to his computer screen.

This was his chance.

Chris looked towards Barry, a huge smile on his face as he stood with the pretense to follow behind. He was getting pretty tired anyway, and seeing how he could potentially punch in a few hours early tomorrow morning to make up for whatever stuff–

"Sit down, Christopher."

"But–"

"Now."

Grumbling to himself, Chris sat down, watching Barry disappear into the locker area with a sympathetic look on his face.

Great.

"Stop being useless. You're not leaving until you complete at least one report."

Chris made damn sure Wesker couldn't hear him mimicking his accent from under his breath while he looked around the room, looking for the time. It was eight in the evening, for fuck's sake. Way past five, which was the hour in which he was already supposed to be at home eating a bag of Doritos with a nice game of football playing in the background.

"This is bullshit."

"Which part? Your incompetence, or your complete and utter inability to be somewhat useful?"

"Quit calling me useless and whatever else that other word is!" Chris flailed, swiveling in his chair so that he would face that smug-looking face again. "Isn't this illegal? You're over-working your employees, you know!"

No response, just the constant clicking of the keyboard that Chris hated more than anything.

Again, Chris didn't understand why Wesker found it so absolutely necessary to wear dark sunglasses during every minute of the day. In his awesome opinion, the whole habit was just ridiculous. Chris sighed, toying around with the buttons on his shirt.

Fifteen minutes passed. Then twenty. Then forty.

Even staring at Wesker had become boring at this point.

"Can I go home now?"

"Yes."

Chris stopped, taking a moment to replay what he'd just heard. He certainly hadn't expected that. He hadn't even finished the report yet..

"Really? I can?"

Wesker stood from his desk, all grace and subtle dexterity as he readjusted his sunglasses and began to collect several which papers inside his briefcase with those long and awfully pale hands of his.

Wesker's hands were really very pretty, actually.

Thin and hairless, but undoubtedly masculine all the same, the sheer amount of power that they emitted in their every movement and flex causing Chris to fall into some sort of swoon over them.

How could someone, his boss, his total _ass_ of a boss, have prettier hands than, say, Jill? He just couldn't understand–

"You're staring again," Wesker bit.

"Oh.. What? W-wait, no I wasn't!" Well, okay, maybe he was. Chris sighed, deflating his lungs in defeat. "Yeah, sorry."

Chris hadn't meant to, really, he hadn't, but that was seriously the first time he'd ever seen Wesker's hands without the usual black-leather gloves on. As to why Chris found that so intensely riveting, well, he had no idea.

Realizing he'd been awkwardly standing in front of Wesker's desk for much longer than what one would consider normal, Chris quickly spun on his heel and walked back towards his own desk, fully determined to take his mind off of anything embarrassing that had transpired in the past ten minutes of his life. Chris could still hear Wesker ruffling around with papers in the background, moving around the room with his steel-toed boots resonating deeply against the tiled floor with every step that he took.

God, that guy was such a dick.

Chris grimaced to himself, fiddling around with a loose string he'd found on his pants until the red on his face had completely subsided.

A few seconds later, the search for his keys had commenced.

This always took a minute.

**oOo**

He managed to locate his apartment key under Jill's desk.

His car key, however, was quickly becoming a lost cause.

Chris gave up after a while.

The key was nowhere to be found.

He sat in his chair, taking several secret glances towards Wesker's direction as he mentally weighed his options.

One, he could call up a cab and dry up whatever was left of his savings account.

Two, he could keep looking until he actually found his key, which also meant staying at work for god knows how much longer.

Or three, he could ask for a ride.

When Chris had finally made up his mind, Wesker was already heading towards the exit, briefcase in hand. Swallowing away his pride, Chris stood up and cleared his throat.

"Hey, uh, Captain?"

Wesker stopped, saying nothing as he turned slowly towards Chris.

"Can I uh.. You know, get a ride from you, maybe? I can't find my car key."

At first, Chris expected Wesker to be his usual ass-y self about the whole thing and just leave him there to suffer his fate. But what had actually happened next turned out to be a huge shocker.

"Sure."

Flashing his million dollar grin, Chris snatched his pager from his desk and hurried to catch up, not bothering to take his shit out from the lockers.

**oOo**

Wesker's car was nice.

Sleek, expensive, and black, like the rest of the stuff he usually wore/had.

The seats were made of leather, making the car smell like how much it was probably worth. Everything was in order. Clean. Not a scratch on the windows nor the doors. Chris felt a little bad just sitting in it. His torn-down Volvo didn't even come close to this thing

Wesker didn't even spare him a glance. He drove smoothly and with ease with one hand steady on the wheel and the other somewhere in between his open thighs. His sunglasses were still in place despite the utter darkness within the car, the sheen of the expensive lenses glistening against the passing cars and their headlights.

Hair like liquid gold, tamed and perfectly slicked.

Thin, articulate lips. Skin like diamond dust. White cream against ink.

It was hardly against nature not to stare.

Wesker's arm was firm, the exposed skin in his forearm riddled with nothing but hard, chiseled muscle. Each steer of the wheel caused the tight sinew to flex, to ripple, and then to relax. Chris watched it all carefully, his bright blue eyes tracing every flinch of the older man's movement, waiting for more, taking note of each habit. He'd only been working for Wesker for a few months now, but ever since he'd deemed him a jerk with a huge tree shoved up his ass on the very first day of having met him at the interview session, Chris had never stopped and really_ looked_.

Yep. There was no way around it.

His boss was smoking hot, even for a guy.

..And he also kinda looked like a vampire, to be totally honest.

"Had your fill yet, Christopher?" was the British drawl that tore Chris right out of his rather disturbing trance.

No, he was totally not gay for Albert Wesker.

Chris jumped slightly before he shifted in his seat, gluing his eyes towards the dashboard and threatening himself with death if he dared to place them towards any other place.

"You're the only one who calls me that," Chris quickly said as he began to fiddle with the fabric of his jeans. "It's kind of weird, actually."

Wesker didn't say anything and instead took a smooth turn towards the left. That's when Chris took the opportunity to really sniff the air, noticing the expensive cologne that permeated it. He took a lungful, and then he took another. Maybe another one, too, just for the sweet hell of it. He probably looked like he was on the verge of an asthma attack at that point, but Wesker hadn't cared to comment on it if he did. Which wasn't surprising in itself, really. Chris kinda had the feeling that Wesker didn't like him very much, anyway.

"So, uh, how are you liking the weather?"

"I don't."

"Nice," Chris said mostly to himself, feeling slightly restless all of a sudden. "You play any sports?"

"No."

"Do you like sports?"

"No."

"Oh.."

By the time they reached their first red light, the tension in the air was already thick enough to asphyxiate. Chris dared to shift his eyes towards his left, catching a small glimpse of Wesker's white skin and sunglasses. That's when the burning question began to scratch at his throat again, and he knew he wouldn't be able to hold it in this time like he did at work.

"Why do you always wear those sunglasses?"

Wesker seemed to have stiffened a little, but then he seemed to have completely relaxed the moment the light had turned green. Chris watched him closely with the corner of his eye, not missing the way Wesker's jaw had clenched tightly before releasing slowly.

Chris waited for a few short moments before he decided that Wesker really wasn't going to answer his question. He sighed, slumping into his seat.

Maybe Wesker was missing his eyes, or something. Or maybe he didn't like his eye color. Or maybe he had really long, curly eyelashes that he wasn't very proud of.

Chris had to choke down a fit of laughter at the thought of the last one.

In any case, there was only one way to find out.

Not thinking twice, Chris reached out towards Wesker's sunglasses while the car was still moving.

Unfortunately, Chris' hand never attained its goal, and was instead violently snatched by the wrist in a clasp that was so incredibly powerful, that it left Chris wondering how the hell it was even possible for a man of Wesker's build to exude such an insane amount of strength in just one arm.

The car let out a deafening screech the moment the wheels had swerved completely off the road. It all happened so quickly that Chris barely had any time to register the fact that they had almost hit a huge tree head-on.

Chris froze.

Wesker's hand was like branded steel around his wrist. Branded steel smothered in ice.

Wesker's skin was just so.. _cold_.

Chris didn't even try to take his wrist back, as he was still in the shock process of coming to terms with how outrageously Wesker had reacted to the whole situation.

Like, seriously, what the hell? All this over a pair of sunglasses?

"Don't test me, Christopher," Wesker hissed, never flinching in his position as he stared straight towards the dash as if nothing at all had happened.

Chris was gonna say something, really, he was, but the way Wesker had spat those words out with so much seething venom laced into their every syllable really stole away any desire to do so.

A moment later, Wesker finally let go of Chris' wrist, hands returning back onto the steering wheel in a way that left his knuckles looking whiter than even the rest of his skin.

Chris let out a breath he hadn't noticed he'd been holding in before quietly returning his gaze towards the road.

The car began to move again, and not another word was said between them.

**oOo**

The moon was dull that night. Half-eaten, and also very small.

It was pitch black by the time they reached the apartment building.

A lone, moth-ridden light in the parking lot illuminated the area, casting a multitude of ominous shadows to seam at every which corner. The sound of absolutely nothing would've otherwise traced the lonely air if not for the constant, electrical buzzing noise coming from the light's bulb.

It was all very eery, and deeming by the kind of area that Chris happened to live in, he made sure his trusty combat knife was still in its sheath next to his thigh.

He waited until Wesker had fully parked the car before he began the process of unbuckling himself.

"Thanks.." Chris said, breaking the silence between them. "For the ride, I mean."

Wesker simply hummed in response before he wordlessly got out of the car, leaving Chris a little dumbstruck in his seat with the seat-belt still in his hand. Furrowing his brow in both confusion and curiosity, Chris quickly composed himself and stepped out of the car, as well.

"Captain?" he called, careful not to be too loud at that hour of the night.

He looked around a little for any sign of the other man, but Wesker seemed to have completely disappeared.

"Capt– "

At that precise moment, Chris had suddenly felt something solid hit his back.

Chris nearly fell over from a heart-attack.

He spun on his heel, hand automatically reaching for the hilt of his knife, but before he could bring it to the attacker's neck, he ended up facing none other than Wesker himself. A mere inch separated them, and Chris immediately put his knife down, releasing a shaky breath.

"What the fuck Wesker!" he hissed, "You scared the shit out of me!"

Wesker's thin and neatly-kept eyebrow arched in response, a slightly annoyed look on his face as he watched Chris regain himself from his previous freak-out.

Wesker had to have some serious ninja skills to have been able to pull off a stunt like that. So good, in fact, that Chris was actually about to compliment the guy on it until–

Wait a minute.

How in the actual fuck did Wesker get back there even _with_ ninja skills? There was just no way! His boots would've made some sort of noise, right? Deeming with how noisy the things always were at work.

Chris' eyes began to squint.

"How exactly did you just–"

"Lead. It's late out," Wesker said, already beginning to walk forward, anyway. "I haven't got all night."

Frowning, Chris forced himself to just forget about the whole thing.

As he led the way, Chris couldn't help but begin to wonder why Wesker had bothered to.. escort? him to his apartment, in the first place. He could perfectly well do it himself, after all. Not quite wanting to ruin the only sign of kindness that Wesker had ever shown to him, however, Chris kept his mouth shut. That didn't stop him from taking the occasional secret glance towards Wesker as they walked, though.

Sure, Wesker was a jerk at heart and everything, but that didn't stop him from being an awesome captain.

Chris could sometimes (harsh emphasis on 'sometimes') admit to himself that he'd looked up to the man on a few occasions. Wesker seemed to have an answer to everything, and judging just by the strange way that he talked, Wesker seemed incredibly intelligent. So, sure, Wesker wasn't the nicest guy out there, but that didn't stop Chris from feeling proud to be under his command.

Okay, maybe that came out a little weird.

"So, uh, would you like something to drink, or.. something?" Chris asked as he fiddled with his key.

He didn't even know why he bothered to ask, really, he already knew the answer.

"Water. If it's not too much trouble."

..Well shit.

**oOo**

Chris' apartment wasn't the neatest, nor the most appealing.

But Wesker didn't seem bothered by this and had simply stood respectfully by the door.

Chris thought that was kind of weird, since he'd never really seen Wesker outside of his usual habitat, let alone, outside of work.

In any case, this was Chris' territory now.

..Which was actually a little unnerving in itself because, above all, Wesker was still his boss, his paycheck signer, _and_ his captain.

Chris swallowed quietly before turning towards Wesker, hand awkwardly scratching at the back of his head.

"Water, right?"

"Yes."

So Chris went on and brought Wesker some water. When he returned, Wesker was still by the door, having not moved an inch. Chris wasn't exactly accustomed to this, either, as whenever a friend came over to his place they'd immediately crash on his couch or go and scavenge the kitchen without even asking.

Chris actually found this to be kind of nice. And also.. Well, it was kind of cute, in a way. Only because it was Wesker and the guy was usually an insensitive asshole.

He handed him the glass, and in that small exchange, their fingers brushed by just a fraction. It was enough to make Chris' cheeks brighten. Wesker's fingers were really soft. And also, if you asked Chris, Wesker's fingers had lingered for a little longer than exactly necessary.

Chris hadn't meant to stare at Wesker the way he did the entire time that he sipped into his glass, he really didn't, but Chris' agonizing amount of curiosity as to what lied beneath those censoring, dark sunglasses began to intensify to record levels as the seconds went by. It got to the point in which Chris just couldn't control himself anymore, even if he wanted to, lest he burst into a pile of never-knowing nerves.

This was his chance. Possibly his last.

"Christopher? You look unwell."

Chris' fingers trembled at first, but his courage had always been his biggest virtue, and before he could measure the deadly consequences, Chris had already reached out for Wesker's sunglasses.

The very first thing that Chris managed to register was the loud noise of the glass shattering somewhere on the floor. The second thing was the fact that Wesker had once again caught him by the wrist. Except, this time, it was with much more force than before, possibly enough to pulverize a few bones if Wesker had bothered to squeeze just a little more.

All else was a blur.

Pissed, Wesker twisted Chris' wrist back enough to make him cry out in pain before he elbowed him right on the cheek, the sickening sound of stricken bone bouncing off the walls of the room. By the time Chris had attempted to retaliate, he had already been pinned against the door. Wesker's powerful, vice-like hand kept him in place by the neck, shutting off air, leaving Chris entirely defenseless.

Chris felt his feet begin to leave the safety of the floor, and that was when he began to realize that while he was busy choking and practically dying from lack of air, Wesker had been doing all this with just one, single, bare hand, unscathed.

"So slow to comprehend?" Wesker drawled, his thin lips falling into a sort of devilish sneer. "I warned you not to test me, _Chris_."

But with the last tuft of strength that he had left despite his situation, Chris had managed to grin before reaching to slap the sunglasses right off of Wesker's face. They fell to the ground with a very loud noise. The lenses had probably cracked, or maybe it was due to the fact that the entire room had frozen into a cold silence.

"Bite me," Chris bit, struggling still to diffuse himself from Wesker's grip.

That's when Chris finally saw it.

Or more like _them_. Wesker's eyes.

They were gray. A metallic, beautiful, silvern gray with the winning intensity of tungsten sheen.

They were pretty. Very pretty.

Chris deemed he could die a happy man now, just seeing something so lovely like Wesker's eyes as his very last memory, but before he could attempt to snicker at the thought, Wesker had lowered him enough that he once again felt solid ground against his feet, the hold around his neck loosening until it was completely gone altogether.

Chris could finally taste some new air in his lungs.

His head immediately collapsed against the door, mouth eager towards the ceiling as he gulped down several clumps of fresh air into his system. His chest heaved frantically, throat both sore and greedy. Air had never tasted as good as it did at that moment.

Unfortunately, Chris' inner revel for the existence of oxygen hadn't lasted too long before he felt another pair of lips suddenly mash against his own.

Chris snapped his eyes open, meeting the closed ones of none other than Wesker. His immediate response was to struggle, to attack, and to possibly kick and rip open the other man's balls, but when Chris felt a hand grope somewhere within the area of his crotch, his body had instantly melted against the door, the muscles in his legs quickly becoming useless.

Wesker's hand was quite clearly rubbing against the flaccid pole of his cock, and by all that was wretched and totally wrong, Chris felt his dick reacting to the ministration with record haste.

Damn, that felt so good.

And just _knowing_ who it was that was pulling so vigorously on his cock..

"W-wha.." Chris breathed, half-hardheartedly trying to worm his way out of Wesker's weight, "What are you d-doing..?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

Still determined to hold off some of his dwindling pride, Chris managed to wrack up enough sense to try and punch Wesker across the face. But to no one's great surprise, Wesker had caught his wrist for the third time with the hand that wasn't currently milking the living pre-cum out of his clothed dick.

"You've no shame," Wesker leered, his voice low and dangerous and laced altogether with that exotic, foreign purr that only he could pull off so hellishly well, "To have denied your truest desire of me." He lent, biting Chris' parted lip painfully hard before hissing a very sharp and prolonged, "_Chris._"

Chris, for his part, was in another world. All he wanted was the pants off and for that sinfully practiced hand to milk his cock bare and fast until he reached that wonderful ninth cloud that he swore was heaven. Wesker's scent wasn't helping much either, as Chris had always been weak at the knees for whatever brand it was that Wesker always perfumed himself with.

..Or maybe it was just Wesker himself. Chris didn't know shit at that point.

Before Chris could embarrass himself further with all the raunchy, less-than-masculine noise he was probably making, Wesker had already proceeded to pull his hand away from Chris' fully erected cock to unbuckle his belt, throwing the thing somewhere on the floor where Chris secretly hoped would stay forgotten for the rest of the night.

There was just something about being ruthlessly assaulted, choked against his own front door only to be groped in mid-death by his impossibly attractive captain that drove Chris to feel unbearably_ hot_.

When Chris had felt himself being thrown against the opposite wall, he noticed that he was no longer wearing anything but his STARS RPD shirt, which didn't count for much, because the thing was torn wide open with all the buttons suddenly missing. He looked towards Wesker, fog-eyed and panting, noticing that the older man looked completely and entirely unaffected by the situation if not for the slight arch on his lips that looked a lot like that mocking, self-loving smirk that he often liked to parade around at work.

God, that jerk was sexy.

And though Chris preferred his 'encounters' with a nice pair of breasts attached, that very important requisite soon went down the drain the moment Wesker had opened his mouth to speak again.

Chris nearly shuddered in anticipation.

"You don't disappoint, Christoper," Wesker purred, bringing a single finger to trace all along the tract of Chris' jaw. "Always worthy of my regard." He lent then, his thin lips tracing softly against the pink seam of Chris' mouth, breathing, tasting,_ licking_. "In more ways than one."

Before Chris could greedily attempt to kiss the other man back , Wesker had already snaked his hand to his cock again, thumbing the slit before fucking it softly.

Chris melted against the wall at the obscene pleasure of the feeling, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he let out a low groan against Wesker's amused expression. That's when Wesker proceeded to bury his face in the crook of Chris' neck, biting hard onto the sensitive flesh before sucking with voracious abandon, all teeth and tongue and no care at all given for any broken skin.

That was definitely going to leave a good mark in the morning.

Chris was helpless not to roll his head to the side despite the winning pain in the other's actions, allowing Wesker better access of his neck as he lost himself in the feeling of his cock being worshiped by the other's deceivingly delicate hand. Chris rocked into the soft palm, aching and dying for more as he allowed Wesker to have his way with his neck in whichever way he wanted.

Just as long as that hand didn't stop, as long as his cock continued to feel as good as it did, as long as he came, and, oh god–

But then it stopped, and only the pain in his neck remained.

Chris opened his eyes, nearly whimpering in disappointment when he noticed Wesker had pulled away completely and was now inches away. A wry, devilish sneer marked against the pale etch of Wesker's lips before he finally opened them to speak.

"Get on your knees and suck me."

Those beautiful, gray eyes surely couldn't be found anywhere else..

**oOo**

Chris Redfield would be caught dead before he did this for anyone else, ever.

But Wesker, of course, was another story entirely in itself.

So, Chris damn well got on his knees, on the floor of his very own livingroom, and took Wesker's cock out from its confines at record speed. He stared at it for a moment, amazed by how.. _pretty_, it looked.

Lightly tinted, pink tip, pale shaft, thick and long with a pair of nice, tight balls that looked good enough to consider actually touching later on.

He could admit that Wesker's dick could probably manage to rival his own at this point.

Chris hadn't entirely noticed the moment he'd licked his lips.

"I'll kill you if you say anything," he muttered, grabbing the cock by the base of the shaft to bring closer to his lips, "I also won't ever consider doing this again if you do."

Before Wesker could say anything in response, Chris had engulfed the head of his cock into the warm cavern of his mouth. Wesker bit down a gasp of surprise, for the way in which Chris had expertly swirled his tongue against the sensitive slit was not at all expected.

Wesker was not one to allow others the joy of controlling his own pleasure, however, and quickly pulled Chris off of his dick by the hair, stopping him. Chris looked up, his brow slightly furrowed in both confusion and pain.

"That hurts, you kno– "

But Wesker had already impaled him against his arousal again, cheeks swollen and stuffed with nothing but the girth of Wesker's cock. Chris made a noise of discomfort and brought his hands to Wesker's clothed thighs, attempting to pull away; but, as always, Wesker overpowered his efforts and he eventually gave up, instead choosing to close his eyes and resume to suck on the cock currently embedded half-way inside his mouth.

Wesker shuddered at the feeling, Chris seemed a little too good at this for a 'first time'.

Bringing a hand to the base like he saw in the occasional porn video, Chris began to pump slowly, sliding his tongue along the vein that he knew where to locate thanks to how much he played with his own dick. He tried not to think _too _much about the whole thing, as every time he did he felt a little less and less manly, and more and more like Wesker's.. bitch.

The thought was oddly arousing, but Chris would never admit that out loud to even himself.

Before Chris could go deeper into his thoughts (as sucking and pumping a cock really wasn't doing much for him, anyway), Wesker had grown impatient and had taken Chris by the hair hard enough to tear out a few strands.

Next thing Chris knew, his throat lied clogged with nothing but dick, and he nearly choked to his death if it weren't for his quick thinking to try and relax his esophagus. He looked up towards Wesker, brows furrowed tightly and with tears already flooding at his eyes, noting the amused leer on the other's lips.

"You look better this way," Wesker said, keeping Chris in place by the root of his short hair. "Perhaps you should consider it more often."

Wesker wasted no time.

He pushed Chris in until his nose had met his naked pelvis, grinding his cock deep within the confines of the other's throat.

Chris felt unlike any other person Wesker had dominated in this way. He shivered in the thrill of it, a long string of pleasure running all along his spine and neck, ending only at the tip of his twitching prick that Chris undoubtedly felt from inside him.

"Look at me."

And so Chris did, his eyes wet and with tears falling from their rims, marking all against his cheeks. Wesker's delight increased further the moment he took note of Chris reaching for his own unattended arousal from in between his open thighs, pulling hard and fast.

"Yes. Like that. Don't stop, Christopher."

Without much of a warning, Wesker had begun to force Chris' head into a quick and steady rhythm, the entirety of his cock sliding softly against the slick walls of the other's throat again and again. Wesker never allowed Chris to look away from him, and stared straight into his blue, wetted eyes, watching as he broke and dominated the only man that had ever dared to disobey him.

It felt nice.

It _always_ felt nice, knowing nothing and no one could ever_ not_ submit to you; not even someone as fiery and as rebellious like Chris Redfield.

Wesker basked in the knowledge, taking much pleasure in the way Chris' colored eyes had begun to retreat to the back of his skull whilst his full, youthful lips lied worked and sealed around the breadth of his prick.

Nothing could ever even come _close_.

Wesker skull-fucked Chris for another half-minute before he finally decided to let to go, leaving Chris to collapse on the floor as he gasped and choked for much needed air whilst he coughed out several clumps of fresh pre-cum out of himself. Wesker watched him quietly with a small, approving smirk on his lips before he knelt to bring Chris up by the face with both hands, softly caressing his sodden cheeks.

Their lips met again the moment Chris was once again on his feet, and then Wesker began to gently lick away whatever was left on the sides of Chris' lips.

The actions were all shockingly affectionate, Chris thought, odd wherein themselves, and almost bordering on abnormal, considering the fact that it was Wesker who was lapping at him like some sort of thirsty kitten.

Chris melted himself into the kiss, either way, forgetting the soreness that throbbed still in his violated throat. In fact, Chris completely lost himself into the kiss, as he had wrapped his arms around Wesker's strong neck like lovers do, eager and ready for whatever else was thrown his way.

Wesker could have him.

Taint him, fuck his asshole open all night long if he wanted. Hell, Wesker could beat the shit out of him right now and Chris was certain he'd still have a raging boner by the end of it.

Wesker was a drug.

A powerful, beautiful drug with blond hair and licentious, silvern eyes.

And like a drug, Wesker was nothing short to addictive and oh so hellishly lethal.

By the time Chris had noticed that Wesker had stopped kissing him, he noticed that his surroundings now consisted of his own bedroom walls. It was a mess. There were empty Dorito bags riddled throughout, socks everywhere, clothes hanging from the lamp.

It was honestly kind of embarrassing, but Wesker didn't seem to notice this at all.

His eyes were set on Chris' own, and nothing else seemed to matter to him at that moment.

And in that moment, Chris allowed himself to wonder if maybe it could be that way for longer than just one night, longer than just today.. If, perhaps, Wesker wanted it, too, they could–

"Get on the bed," Wesker breathed, voice hot and shaky with raw and carnal lust, "Bend over for me."

Chris wasted no time. He didn't even have to weigh his options this time.

He wanted this, wanted Wesker, more than anything he'd ever care to want.

And in that want, he'd give away all that he had to offer, if even for just one night.

**oOo**

Chris tried to breathe steady as he braced himself on hands and knees.

He'd never been this exposed to anyone before, especially to a man.

He felt the bed begin to sink as Wesker braced himself behind him, hands clenching hard onto his hips. Chris didn't know what the hell to expect, and, quite honestly, he was kind of starting to freak out a little.

There was a full-grown man (thirteen years his senior, no less), with a massive cock at the opposite end, ready to rip his asshole open with it. Said man was also his captain, his superior, his leader, and founder of the elite STARS team.

If _anyone_ on Alpha found out that he was fucking around with their boss–

"Will i-it.." Chris swallowed, attempting to level his voice. "Will it hurt..?"

Chris flushed a deep red at the question, making sure that Wesker wouldn't notice.

God, he was seriously beginning to feel like a teenaged girl on her very first time.

Wesker responded with leaning down and reaching to plant a kiss on Chris' lips, his taller figure suddenly encasing Chris' smaller one in a cape of bare skin. Wesker seemed to have undressed himself on their way to the bedroom apparently, and Chris felt a nick of disappointment in his chest that he wouldn't be able to see Wesker fully naked in the position he was currently in.

Biting hard onto the younger man's lip as a way to distract him, Wesker prepped himself against Chris' hole, caressing the sealed cleft with what was to come. Chris shuddered, letting out a gasp at the wet feeling.

"Try to relax," Wesker whispered, his accent thicker now than ever before. "Breathe and don't cramp up, you'll bleed."

"Well, that's an awfully nice thing to hear right about now," Chris bit, clenching his eyes closed for all that he could. The shame was beginning to get to him. It all looked so wrong, but it all felt so right, and he just couldn't even begin to understand. "If I die, it's gonna be totally your fault."

"If you die," Wesker smirked, licking all along the tract of Chris' blushing cheek, "It wouldn't be much fun for you anymore, now would it?"

Before Chris could express his outrage at Wesker's rather creepy statement, the cockhead leveled at his ass had suddenly begun to push against his opening, causing Chris' back to arch in shock. Wesker pulled away from Chris's face and once again grabbed him by the hips, clenching.

And right when Chris was to take another breather, he began to feel the very tip of Wesker's rock-hard cock begin to slide inside. It felt strange and slightly painful at first, but Chris tried his absolute best to relax and just take deep, long breaths like Wesker had instructed him to do.

He'd heard anal felt good if done right from a few of his past girlfriends..

Wouldn't be much different for a guy, right..?

Giving Wesker the go-ahead with a small wiggle of his hips, Chris bit his lip, the excitement in his stomach for the new experience already beginning to stem right down to his hardening prick. Wesker fucked into him at a slow pace at first, centimeter by centimeter, but when Chris had let out a low mewl of a moan, it seemed to have caused Wesker to lose some of his cool.

Wesker pulled out to the tip, only to re-fuck Chris' ass with the previous amount of length used– five different times. Chris let out another noise, his back curving beautifully as he did so.

"F-fu.." he groaned, head weakly falling towards the mattress. "Wesker.."

That's when Wesker buried himself to the hilt with nothing but pre-cum to aid Chris' end.

Chris cried out, mostly in surprise, but mostly because Wesker had snatched a fistful of his hair, pulling his head back to whisper into his ear in that low, seductive British drawl of his.

"What is it?"

"Sh-shit.." Chris panted, lips swollen with need, "Fuck me."

And so Wesker went on and did.

He used his free hand to grab a clenched fist of Chris' ass before slamming into him again and again.

Chris was tight. Ridiculously so, telling Wesker that Chris had probably never really done this before. A faint smirk traced his thin lips at the thought of it all as he continued to hammer away, the sensual clamor of Chris' ass against his pelvis tainting the innocence of the night air.

Wesker made sure to watch the way Chris swallowed him whole each time, to the hilt and then to the tip, the seething warmth of the other's innards milking Wesker in a way that left him feeling the coil of orgasm begin to form much too soon. He snarled in what seemed to be a small fit of frustration before he pushed Chris right into the bed, holding the younger man up by only his ass whilst he forced his head down deep into the mattress.

Chris lied smothered, mouth wide open as he tried to choke down the moans that threatened. His eyes had long retreated into the reef of his skull, the feeling of being fucked open with such rough and vicious abandon sending him straight into a lovesick swoon for the man behind him.

Wesker was so thick. Wesker was so perfect.

"F-faster," Chris muffled into the bed, "F-fuck.. Just fuck me.."

Wesker sated his need without question, and Chris swore he would die with that very cock lodged deep inside him. He moaned against the sheets, clutching onto the fabric until his nails dug through and cut the skin on his palms. He was seeing stars, the dick in his ass showing him a world that he hadn't thought at all possible.

He was gonna come.

As if Wesker had sensed this before it were to even happen, he picked up his pace to a speed that just couldn't be possible.

Chris knew his ass would be completely destroyed the next day, along with a very sore orifice that he wouldn't be able to live down, especially at work, but he scarcely cared. He reached for his own length, pulling as fast as he could until his mind had completely shut down and only the muscles in his rectum and in his dick could tell the story with the way they had violently convulsed in an intense, perpetual cramp of sheer orgasm.

Chris spent into his own sheets until nothing was left of him, body still being savagely pillaged from behind.

A thin string of drool began to fall from the corner of his lips, the blue in his eyes long gone.

After nearly ten minutes of raw, brutal fucking, Wesker had forced him up, locking Chris' mouth into a violent kiss, all teeth and tongue. That's when Chris felt a hot, frothing surge that was more than likely Wesker's fresh seed gush from deep inside, filling him to the brim.

Wesker bit out a curse from under his breath, something Chris had never heard before.

Strings of white liquid slowly began to leak from the inner of Chris' thighs, ending only at his knees.

Chris had long lost the ability to speak, and instead panted quietly against Wesker's disheveled hair, watching him with lidded eyes. Wesker didn't move for a long moment, his face buried into the crook of Chris' neck the entire time whilst he caught his breath and composure.

Did Wesker not want Chris to see him..?

They stayed that way for a long moment until Wesker had slid out, nearly softened.

Nothing was said between them the moment Wesker had collapsed onto the bed next to Chris, chest heaving.

And though his blond hair lied undone, and his pale skin lied flushed and dusted lightly in sweat, Wesker looked close to nothing but fucking amazing.

A white dream with gray oceans for eyes.

A void of black, of hushed secrets, and then of something dangerous altogether.

The epitome of all that was obscure, Chris thought, of cunning, and then of something.. sweet.

Chris stared at his superior in awe from the corner of his eye as they just lied there in silence, shoulder to shoulder, making sure Wesker wouldn't meet his gaze for even a moment.

Soon, Wesker's breathing had suddenly evened, and Chris realized that the man had fallen asleep right on his bed.

Sitting up on his elbow, Chris just stared.

He didn't know how much longer it was until he found himself asleep with his hand twined in Wesker's hair, and he hadn't bothered to remember ever since.

Either way, Chris swore he would never feel anything like it ever again.

..Crazy what a stupid lost car key can lead up to sometimes, huh?

**oOo**

**Omg. I can't believe I just wrote that.**

**Now leave me a little something for the sake of my shame, yes? xD xx**


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